Tiny Grayson
by hawkstout
Summary: Background Jason/Dick: Damian is forced to babysit Thomas while Dick and Jason have a night to themselves. Damian's quite comfortable in his role as educator and makes the toddler, and himself, a promise.


"Please?"

"No."

"Please?"

"**No.**"

"Look at these eyes."

Damian didn't look at those eyes because as much as he hated to admit it they were tremendously effective.

"What happened to Kent?"

"Kara got called away at the last moment. Something about dinosaurs in Tokyo."

"I'm busy."

"Playing the new Kurosawa game isn't busy."

Damian crossed his arms. "This is my first night off in weeks, Grayson."

"I'll cover you for three days of your choice," Dick promised, "Come on, me and Jason have had this planned for a month. Papa and Daddy need—"

"Sex?" Damian finished. Dick covered Thomas' ears, but nodded enthusiastically.

"I'm not going to condone you sleeping with Todd," Damian said deadpan.

"Damian," Dick glared.

"At least you can't get pregnant—oh wait."

Dick rolled his eyes. Damian knew very well that it involved stolen DNA and test tubes, but hell. With all the aliens Todd kept poking at a male pregnancy was bound to happen one day.

Thomas pouted reaching out towards his uncle.

"D-daa-Daami!" The little boy whined trying to reach him.

Damn it, he made eye contact.

Thomas seemed to know he had him and his pouting broke out into a huge grin.

Big aqua blue eyes that mirrored Todd's, but Grayson's wide smile and joyful temperament.

Thomas had his arms wrapped around Damian's neck before the current Robin realized he had been played.

"Wait a moment!" He shouted as Dick sprung towards the door.

"You have Jason's and my emergency numbers and frequencies, there're spare diapers, formula, toys, and crocky crunch, you're a pro you know all this haveagoodnight!"

"GRAYSON!"

There was a rev of a motorcycle and Grayson was gone.

Damian sighed rolling his eyes in irritation. He placed the toddler on the ground. Thomas hugged his legs beaming up at him. Damian didn't smile, but patted the child's head.

"Still wearing that ridiculous red cap I see. You need to be careful. You mustn't develop your sense of style from your Papa or the Red Hood."

"Wed Hood, BANG!" Thomas cheered miming guns.

Damian gave him a dour look which, like his father before him, Thomas only giggled at. He mimicked Damian's scrunched face. Damian took him by the hand lecturing as he went. At least the tiny Grayson was intelligent enough to hang off his every word.

"No, you don't want to be Red Hood, he's a ruffian, can you say ruffian, tiny Grayson?"

"Woof!" Thomas barked like an excited puppy.

"Ruff-i-an." Damian said more slowly.

"Woof-Damian," Thomas repeated just as slow. The boy was mocking him. He didn't let him bother him.

"No, you're definitely not a Red Hood. You're too chipper to be pulled down by all the angst that helmet is flooded with."

"Anst?"

"…Get a dictionary, you can't expect me to explain everything to you."

Thomas was suddenly excited. He pulled his hand out of Damian's grasp and tried to pull at the bag filled with various odds and ends to keep the child entertained and clean for the evening.

"What?"

Thomas tugged at the bag again, "Present," the boy said. That wide Grayson grin again, "Present for you Unca' Dami! From Daddy 'n' me!"

'Daddy' referred to Todd (Papa was Grayson), so with some trepidation Damian opened the bag finding a large book jammed between all of the various toys and diapers. A dictionary.

There was a post-it note…

"To Bat-brat." Damian read, "You asked for it."

Damian snorted. Thomas hung off his leg and started to crawl up his body. It was an annoying habit the boy had gotten into. Damian couldn't shake him off for fear of hurting him. Thomas eventually got his way up to Damian's shoulders and hung off his neck. Damn acrobatic genes coupled with hard-headed stubbornness. The boy gave him a little kiss on the cheek.

"Like it?" He asked.

"Yeah, it's great." He didn't tell the child dictionaries were practically obsolete because of the internet now. Besides, it was the thought that counts. For a three-year-old this was pretty good.

Of course the three-year-old he was referring to was Todd.

"What does Anst mean?" Thomas asked again still hanging from Damian's neck. Damian wasn't too bothered. He picked up the bag once again and hauled the child and all the baggage to the couch. He bent over and let the amused Thomas fall into the cushions. Damian sat down beside him and opened the dictionary. Instantly the clingy creature was in his lap looking at the open pages of the dictionary with a serious scholarly countenance.

"Lean back, you can't read anyway."

Thomas pouted but leaned against Damian's chest as he flipped through the pages landing in the 'A' section.

"Angst: an acute, but nonspecific sense of anxiety or remorse," Damian read blandly.

The child looked up at him with a blank look. Before he could ask Damian stuck a pacifier in his mouth.

"It means Tod—your Daddy has a lot of baggage and sadness that he carries with him."

The child sucked on the pacifier, the obvious question in his eyes. He did have the blood of a detective after all.

"Your Daddy had bad things happen to him. Things that neither he nor your Papa will ever let happen to you. They'll keep you safe from that, so will I. So will your Grandfather. You can probably count on Pennyworth and all your Aunts and Uncles as well. I wouldn't expect much from Drake, but he'd at least put in the effort."

Thomas popped the pacifier out of his mouth. He snuggled closer to Damian's chest, his small arms wrapped as far as they could around Damian's body. He was only three, he couldn't possibly understand all of what Damian was telling him, but he seemed to realize Damian wasn't just talking about Todd anymore.

"Unca' Dami, are you—"

He ruffled the child's hair secretly amused that he had taken up his mentor's own methods of tactile communication.

"My tiny Grayson, you'll be a Robin, there's no other way about it. You'll probably have your Papa's timing and your Daddy's tenaciousness. You'll flip around, show off and you'll have fun doing it. You'll be able to learn all the lessons of your Grandfather and fathers and aunts and uncles without being scarred by loss and vengeance. We won't let that happen to you. You will fly tiny Grayson."

It was as much a promise to himself as it was to the child in his arms.

"Are you sad?" The child finished anyway because it was hard to distract a Todd when they focused their attentions and as much as Thomas was Dick's he was also Jason's as well.

"No," Damian answered, "I'm very content—happy."

Thomas hugged his neck and kissed his cheek again.

"Good."

He took a firmer hold of the child and stood, "Let's get you some food, shall we? While we do I'll teach you more words. I'll not have you living an ignorant life under the tutelage of your fathers. Then I'll teach you how to swordfight. It's much more effective than guns if you know proper technique."

"Like a pirate?"

"No, pirates are sloppy. More like a disciplined samurai," Damian eyed the Kurosawa game. Grayson would never have to know.

* * *

Notes: Little Thomas for Rubitan after all the fantastic artwork you've done of him you deserve more fics.


End file.
